


Like This

by MilenaDaniels



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Camp Jaha, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cuddly Monty Green, Cuddly Nathan Miller, Established Monty Green/Nathan Miller, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, POV Bellamy Blake, POV David Miller, POV Nathan Miller, Post-Season/Series 02, Supportive David Miller, long-suffering everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 01:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3709187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilenaDaniels/pseuds/MilenaDaniels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times where Monty Green is Camp Jaha's reigning king of Peek-A-Boo, and 1 time where, well, he was still the reigning king of Peek-A-Boo because obviously some people were not born for stealth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like This

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this way past my bedtime (screw tomorrow!me who has to work) because I did the thing, I finally wrote some goddamn fluff with the most minimal angst ever (curse you, Bellamy Blake). I'm so sorry if there are mistakes, I'm a way past tired but I wanted to post before I could keep editing/expanding because that's when all the angst seems to pour in.
> 
> Also, fun story, I wrote this entire thing in one shot tonight while listening to Kodaline's Love Like This on a loop, and I was looking up the lyrics to using some bit as the title and APPARENTLY the song is about losing your love and being delusional about it lasting before it shatters...so, woops! 
> 
> Now I'm gonna go pass out.

 

**1.**

 

Monty was not someone whose stature you would call diminutive. Lately, he had formed a habit of curling in on himself, arms wrapped tightly around his middle, which made him look half his size. But when he stood up straight, he was only a couple of inches shorter than Miller, and while his shoulders sloped more, they weren’t necessarily narrow. The point being, Monty wasn’t the kind of person who would be expected to disappear or appear without warning in a crowd without meaning to. 

Which therefore meant he had to have made it his personal mission to scare the crap out of everyone. The guy would show up out of nowhere, acting like he’d never been anywhere else, and usually you came to believe him. He was just that good.

Everyone had a stealthy Monty story.

Well, except Miller. 

No, wait, not except Miller. 

Miller was the first to get stealth-attacked each and every time.

So, _especially_ Miller.

Those other people could get bent because at least their surprise didn’t come in the form of sudden, hot breath against their napes and a full body bonding at their backs. Miller couldn’t legitimately say he hated it, because while he was not personally actively tactile, he very rarely turned away the touch of someone he cared about, and Monty ranked high on both the care scale and the cuddle scale. But that didn’t mean he’d gotten used to going about his own business before a koala-like form all but tackled him without ever announcing his intentions.

Surprise hugs? Miller was all in.

Monty “accidentally” falling asleep on him? Bring it (literally any time).

But recently, Monty had developed a fixation to Miller’s back and neck where he would lay his forehead right at the base of his nape, and just lean there for however long he felt like it.

Again, totally down for the cuddling. 

Just wished it came with some kind of warning.

That’s all.

 

* * *

 

 

**2.**

 

Bellamy was tired. He’d been up for most of the past five days through a combination of not being able to sleep and keeping busy _because_ he couldn’t sleep. Miller, standing across the table from him, didn’t look any better. But Miller wasn’t likely to complain, he was there for the same reason as Bellamy. 

Keeping busy until…

Just…until.

Thankfully, the camp was finally giving them something to do. They were starting to scout the roads that could lead to survivors and the first landers were to lead the way, providing intel and experience. They just had to divvy up who was going where, and it was turning out to be surprisingly complicated, not to mention difficult, at times, when they came up with the names of people who were qualified about a half second too before they remember they’d died.

So they were tired, and grim, and anxious about the dangers of the missions though neither would admit to it. 

Except Miller wasn’t grim actually, Bellamy realized.

Miller had been looking at their crude map intently for a long time, and that hadn’t changed, but his frown of concentration had given way to a lightness, and a bitten back smile. 

Bellamy rolled his eyes, not that Miller noticed, deep in thought as he must have been about guys who would not be named.

Finally, after minutes had passed and Miller’s face hadn’t lost its softness, Bellamy said, “If you’re not going to focus, you should just get some sleep.”

“Yes, good idea,” came a disembodied voice.

“Monty?” Bellamy cried. 

Miller snorted and stepped aside quickly enough that Monty, who must have been leaning against his back, had to take a hurried step forward to regain his balance. Of course, Miller’s arm was also there to help him out.

“How long have you been there?” Bellamy asked, before looking at Miller’s stupid face and realizing he already knew. “Never mind. What are you doing here?”

“It’s like midnight,” Monty yawned, entirely uncaring of Bellamy’s consternation. “Time for bed.”

Like that was an explanation. Bellamy huffed and looked to Miller for backup but, predictably, found none. 

“Go,” Bellamy told him. Miller nodded his thanks, and lead Monty out of the tent with a hand on his back.

Bellamy blamed his indulgent smile on the fatigue and actually considered finding his own mattress before the familiar heartache nudged at him again and he picked up a pencil to work on another Mount Weather map.

 

* * *

 

 

**3.**

 

“The hell are you doing here? Where are they?” Wick asked. He had barged into their workstation in pseudo!Mecha to find Miller sitting on a stool and the room’s only occupant.

Miller’s face hardened and he shushed him. It was quietly done, yes, though Wick never been so firmly shushed before. But when he spotted Raven’s slumped form over the tabletop on the other side of the shelving, he both understood and was grateful, which he expressed in a “thanks for saving my ass from waking her up” nod. Miller rolled his eyes but seemed over his momentary irritation for the most part, and was already back to reading the book he had propped against Monty’s workstation.

Wick cast his eyes around the room but still found no Monty, sleeping or otherwise.

He looked back at Raven and tapped the pads of his fingers against the table quietly, considering his options. 

“How long has she been sleeping?” he whispered.

Miller looked about to shrug before he changed his mind and whispered, “Don’t know, at least since I got here a half hour ago.”

“And what are you doing here again?”

Miller pursed his lips, looking strangely ill at ease, before jerk his head to the empty room behind him, which answered exactly nothing. Only, when Wick rounded the table, he could see that there was a second stool right behind Miller, on which the other engineer he’d expected to find was slumped over. Monty looked like he’d face-planted square onto Miller’s back and just…stayed there, apparently comfortable enough to sleep. 

Which meant **Miller** was the guy who’d sat there on an uncomfortable stool and been slept on for at least a half hour just because.

Wick tried his very best not to laugh loudly, his face even got red from the effort, he thought it should be noted.

“Don’t even,” Miller whispered.

“Are you embarrassed?” Wick answered, still trying to hold in the giggles. “Because oh my god should you be embarrassed. You guys have achieved levels of adorableness that you need to feel embarrassed about.”

“You’re one to talk,” Miller hissed back, looking pointedly in Raven’s direction, all while his face grew redder.

“I **am** one to talk,” Wick agreed. “We’re cute as buttons - on a good day - but we’ve got nothing on,” his hands gestured helplessly towards Monty, “this spectacle.”

“Okay, you’re done,” Miller said, his blush lingering but his guard’s face coming out in full force. Which likely had to do with the fact that Monty was showing signs of life. Which really only made everything so much more precious.

However, Wick did feel bad for waking Monty for approximately 25 seconds, which was the amount of time it took him to sneak his arms under Miller’s and around his stomach before falling back to sleep.

At that point, out of respect, Wick had to remove himself from the room to laugh the way his body demanded.

 

* * *

 

**4.**

 

Of course, as with all things, even cuddling couldn’t always be full of sweetness and enjoyment of another’s presence.

Miller was on his way to the mess tent when the back of his jacket was grabbed on both sides and he was made to stand still. Somewhat predictably (at this point), Monty’s warm forehead dropped to his nape and his body crowded Miller’s back as best as it could. 

“Really?” he drawled, but stayed dutifully in place.

Monty didn’t often do this in public, but this was definitely the first time he’d deliberately caught him in the middle of moving to get his cuddle time in. 

This time may have been different in more than one way though because Monty’s arms didn’t come around his stomach as they usually did. His hands dropped the back of Miller’s jacket, but then his fingers hooked themselves onto the back loops of his pants and just hung there.

“Hey,” Miller called.

“Shh,” Monty whispered.

Miller frowned and was about to turn around to be able to see Monty properly when he felt the fingers in his pant loops tug deliberately to the left. So, he let his body turn slightly, and then again, and again. And it was only on the fourth tug that he realized that this wasn’t a cuddle at all. That, for once, Monty was using his ability to hide behind him on purpose, as a defence mechanism, and as soon as he realized that, Miller crossed his arm to make himself appear slightly wider.

When Jasper finally passed them on the street, he didn’t look up from the ground, but if he had, he would have seen only Miller there, looking unapproachable.

When the risk of fighting and words that hurt too much to only exist verbally was gone, Miller let his arms fall with a heavy sigh he felt mirrored along the top of his spine.

“You good?” he asked quietly, paying no mind to the other occasional pedestrians who might notice a guy talking to himself.

“Yeah,” Monty replied, his tone even. 

Miller nodded, but didn’t move.

Monty let go of his pant loops and hugged him fully from behind.

Miller leaned back just enough to press against him and laid his hands across Monty’s on his stomach.

And hey, apparently it was a cuddle after all.

 

* * *

 

 

**5.**

 

David and his son were caught in a strange sort of arrangement where Nathan a) clearly wanted to rebuild his relationship with his father and did so by “living” in the quarters they’d been assigned in Alpha station, and b) had no intention of leaving the people with whom he’d developed such indestructible bonds and indicated as much by living in their tented part of camp. David wasn’t entirely sure if Nathan was really conflicted or if he had just decided on a part-time self-custody arrangement where he’d spend one week at home and the next with the other kids. But he was definitely sure that he wasn’t going to complain about any time his son gave him, no matter how limited or strained it might be.

Still, every day he came home expecting to find his son, he called out his name, and he was always crushed when the empty quarters answered with silence. It didn’t stop him from doing it though.

“Nate? I’m back.”

On good days, like this one turned out to be, he was answered with a simple “Hey!” 

Usually, it didn’t usually sound so strangled or panicked as it did today. 

Concerned, David didn’t bother taking his boots off before heading into the kitchen where he found his son standing at the island looking entirely too casual to be comfortable.

“Everything okay?” he asked, casting his eyes around for any signs of potential danger or, more likely, mischief.

“Yeah, fine,” Nate replied, shaking his head and looking away. His son, the convicted criminal, was destined to be the world’s worst liar until the end of time. “I wasn’t expecting you home so late.” He also wasn’t great at strategy under pressure.

“Well I always work second shift, and I always get off at suppertime, which is now,” David said calmly.

Nate’s eyes darted to the clock on the wall before he remembered it wasn’t powered, and David summoned all his training to keep from smiling.

“You seem nervous,” he commented, pulling a chair out from the island to undo his boots. He didn’t miss how Nate shifted his body’s angle ever so slightly. 

David sighed and propped his right boot on the chair to unlace it.

“Son. I know we’re…trying, both of us,” he began awkwardly, “to get things better this time. To…talk things out more.”

Nate’s eyes flew across the room in a panic, as though he could find something to save him. 

David began to unlace his left boot, and continued mercilessly, “And I know I wasn’t there enough for you before, and I can’t fix that, I can only make things better from here if I can. If you’ll let me.”

“Dad,” Nate pleaded, shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously.

“And there are so many things I wanted to - I _want_ to share with you, so many things I want to teach you,” he pressed on, sitting down in the chair without bothering to slip off his boots so that he could steeple his fingers together and focus on his son, “like how it’s pointless to hide things behind your back when there’s a hallway mirror pointed straight at it.”

A bony finger appeared at Nate’s side, quick like lightning, and jabbed him hard, drawing a squeak from his son everyone in the room was surprised to hear. Nate looked mortified, which made sense when paired with the other boy’s look of delight. Apparently he hadn’t known about how ticklish Nate was, and was cataloguing the information for future use. For now, he looked like he was considering getting another poke in for their failed attempt to hide from David.

“I told you it was stupid,” the boy admonished before facing David and offering an awkward smile. “Hi, Sergeant Miller. Ah, I’m Monty? Green?”

“Nice to meet you, Monty Green. I’m sorry my son tried to hide you like you were contraband.”

Monty winced and held up his hands. “In his defence, it usually works.”

Nathan winced and groaned at once, and Monty was immediately apprehensive.

David leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “And just how long would you say it’s been ‘working’ for you?”

It was Monty’s turn to wince. 

“Why don’t you boys sit down. We’ll have supper, and a nice talk.”

“I…think Bellamy needed-“ Monty began, looking to his Nathan for help, which he was all too happy to give.

“Yeah, Bellamy said he needed us. For - at supper - there wasn’t - he didn’t give a reason but, he needed us. Bellamy. He’s…Blake, Bellamy Blake, you know him.”

And because he was feeling generous, due in part to having just witnessed more life and emotion on his son’s face in the past five minutes than he had in weeks, he let them do their awkward, shuffling dance out the door and didn’t try to stop them.

His son would be back soon enough, and David would revel in reminding him how he was both the world’s worst liar (and now smuggler) for a very long time.

 

* * *

 

**+1**

 

One morning, Miller got to enjoy waking up on a mattress, with sheets he didn’t have to worry were crawling with bugs, and without the usual anticipatory anxiety that came with spending the night at his dad’s because the man in question was currently on a recon and salvage mission back to the dropship with Bellamy and Jasper. So Miller had nothing to worry about except how to spend his day off, in a furnished room, with a Monty Green he could have sworn was right next to him the first time he woke up. 

Miller pondered this mystery as he tried to wake up, but he couldn’t find a reason to try harder than he was until he heard the clink of a cup and registered the smell of some kind of sweet tea brewing.

Still sleep-lagged, his eyes still mostly still gummed together, and without any attempt to get anymore than boxers on, he almost drunkenly padded his way across the living area and into the kitchen where he instinctively sought out Monty’s chair (because he had his own chair in the Miller home these days) and his warmth. He wasn’t in his chair yet but he was standing close enough to it for a subtle course correction that didn’t require too much brain activity.

Like he’d felt Monty do countless times before, he dropped his forehead to the soft skin of his nape. Only, Miller was a couple of inches taller so that was awkward. He couldn’t get in close to press their bodies close together like Monty could. 

With a dramatic groan of displeasure, he settled for laying his head on Monty’s shoulder. And if he tugged Monty’s shirt neckline over slightly to get at more skin, who could blame him? In that position, he could wrap his arms loosely over Monty’s hips and stomach, and, with the cuddle sequence complete, Miller locked his legs and let himself melt into the pose. 

It was so comfortable; warmth against his entire front, the familiar scent of Monty right there for him, waiting for him to tuck his face in the crook of his neck and just breathe. It was so peaceful; intoxicatingly so.

“I can see why you do this,” he slurred happily.

Monty’s shoulders shuddered with soft laughter.

“It’s comfy, right?” 

“Mmmh,” he hummed against Monty’s skin, eliciting a shiver this time. He would have pursued that but he was so comfortable. One of Monty’s hands fell to his and stroked the skin rhythmically while his other hand went back to preparing his tea.

“Do you take anything in it?” he heard Monty ask softly.

“I don’t want any,” he replied in what was likely an incomprehensible mumble. Monty’s shoulders shuddered again.

“Sugar usually but that smells sweet enough already,” a feminine voice said, effectively setting off sirens to crash through Miller’s peaceful and tranquil morning. “Almost cloyingly sweet. Like what I’m watching here.”

Miller deliberately blew air onto Monty’s neck, causing him to try to jerk away but he couldn’t while Miller’s arms were still locked around him. “You could have told me.”

“You could have woken me up when Wick found us,” Monty replied with a cheeky grin. “Payback.”

“Morning, Octavia,” Miller huffed, not bothering to mask his grumpiness.

She, of course, was fucking sunshine. In the sense that she was made of fire and happy to burn.

“Morning, Miller,” she replied with a grin.

With a disappointed sigh, Miller stood up straight and released his hold on Monty. But instead of continuing to mock him like Miller expected, Monty’s grin faded into a look of guilt.

“No, hey, come back,” he said, pulling Miller’s arms back around him. “Octavia doesn’t care.”

Miller resisted momentarily but for all that Octavia would tease him about it later, she wasn’t actually going to ruin a good thing for him. She just shrugged and took over tea pouring duties. And when Monty’s hand reached up to guide his head back down to his shoulder, Miller found it surprisingly easy to slip back into his half-asleep state, and at that point, he could no longer think of a good enough reason not to go along with it. 

His head settled on a still too bony shoulder, his fingers locked together across Monty’s lower stomach, and he let most of his weight be absorbed by Monty’s stance and then just…let go. He was lost to the cuddle before he could even attempt to listen in as Monty and Octavia chatted the morning away. 

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope this was at least coherent and vaguely fluffy *crosses fingers*


End file.
